


Tolerance

by Sparrowhawk1031



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Also this reads a little dubcon-y but I promise it's not Dib's just nervous, Bondage, But just barely, Dib's like 20 something and Zim's the equivalent, Established Relationship, M/M, Oh and almost forgot, Overstimulation, Please take the tags with a grain of salt, They're there but they're not explicitly sexual in nature, Top Zim (Invader Zim), ZaDr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22279843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparrowhawk1031/pseuds/Sparrowhawk1031
Summary: Dib hasn't exactly been forthcoming with allowing Zim to return the favor during their...encounters. Zim's not about to let that fly. Alternatively: Dib gets overstimulated, and not in the fun way.Not smut, but is smut-adjacent.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 100





	Tolerance

**Author's Note:**

> Never thought I'd watch Invader Zim, much less write fic for it, but life's just full of surprises huh? This took way too long, but it's the first piece of writing I've completed in a long, long time. So, worth it!
> 
> This was originally inspired by Reynaruina's Ponytail Dib AU, but you don't need to know anything about it to read this. Honestly, with all the changes I made, I'm not even sure I consider it part of that AU. Really the only thing left is the double meaning of the title. But still, I want to give her a shoutout for inspiring this to begin with.
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy! Let me know what you think in the comments.

Really, Dib should have known. He’d be kicking himself right now if he could.

He’d wandered over to Zim’s house after his partial shift at the grocery store had ended and left him square in the awkward middle part of the afternoon, when it was too early to think about dinner but too late to be worth starting much of anything else. It still made him highly uncomfortable to go over there without a mission in mind, let alone _unarmed_.

(His places of employment hadn’t taken too kindly to what the metal detector turned up, despite his assurances that they only worked on alien lifeforms.)

But his method to deal with that particular brand of discomfort was to not, so he’d let himself in the familiar purple door without allowing any time to dwell on it and had been greeted by Zim, sitting on the couch inside, with whom he’d chatted for a bit before Zim’d said hey, I’ve got this project downstairs I’ve been working on, would like to hear your thoughts, wanna see? To which Dib had said, stupidly, sure, why not, and the two had descended to the underground (via the storage room under the couch, thankfully, and not the toilet) and into a long, narrow lab space, where Zim had offered him a chair, and Dib had said, IDIOTICALLY, sure, why not. And he’d sat and looked to Zim to ask more about what they were ostensibly there for, only to see a remote in his hand and a smug look on his face. And there hadn’t even been time to start forming a curse in his mouth before Zim pressed the big round button on it with a resounding _click_ and his body was no longer under his control.

It occurred to him as he sat there, muscles contracting hard enough to make his whole body quiver and electric hum pulsing in his ears, that at least it wasn’t under Zim’s control either. And while profoundly unpleasant it didn’t hurt, really, though his inability to breathe was going to be a real problem sooner rather than later. Unable to even move his eyes away, he helplessly watched as a smirking Zim exchanged the remote for a pair of heavy-looking gloves from the counter behind him.

“Oh, Dib...” Zim sighed, pulling them on over his normal gloves and reaching for his PAK as he circled behind Dib. “You made that way too easy for me.” Rage as fiery as his burning lungs surged in Dib’s chest, and he fought with all his might to move even a smidge. But it was no use; it was like being encased in steel. Zim tugged his arms behind the backrest and affixed something cold and metallic around each wrist that tightened to fit with a mechanical whine and a rapid succession of beeps, then knelt in front and did the same to his ankles. Dib’s mind raced, jumping from _handcuffs_ to _overkill tracking devices_ to _evil machine that will let him puppeteer me but only my limbs which would look really dumb_ to _god this asshole better not have forgotten humans need to breathe, again, hurry up hurry up hurry up..._

Zim rose and moved back to retrieve the remote, then turned to Dib, finger hovering over the button. The two stared at each other for a moment, equally motionless, before Zim’s finger dipped and _click_.

Dib instantly slumped, gasping and coughing. Pain washed over him as the acid released from all his muscles at once, slowly fading as it trickled away into his system. He grimaced at the feeling, and though he felt like a wrung-out rag he tried to move his limbs from where Zim had positioned them. Seemed his first guess about the devices had been right - they weren’t connected to anything he could see, but they wouldn’t budge from where they’d been set. After heaving a few more breaths, he glared up at Zim. “You bastard,” he grit out. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you…”

Zim deposited the gloves and remote on the counter and cut in as Dib paused to cough, looking perplexed. “Eh? What are you talking about?”

“What the hell are you playing at? THIS!” Dib wrenched himself forwards, the cuffs bringing him up short and sending pins and needles up his still-tingling arms. “What is this?!”

Zim’s expression smoothed and he laughed over the tail end of the question. “Silly Dib-human. Your meat brain isn’t processing this correctly.”

Dib stared at him uncomprehending, too fired up for the words or the tone in which they were spoken to make much sense. Zim stared back. Dib looked to the side, then back, then squinted. Zim raised his chin and quirked a brow.

Suddenly, like a lense clicking into place during an eye exam, Dib’s brain managed to apply the paradigm shift that’d occurred over the past couple months between the two of them into the current situation.

His face dropped. Zim grinned.

_Oh._

Zim began to close the distance, and immediately his heart kicked into a pounding overdrive. Something flared hot and bright in his chest - anticipation? Anxiety? Fear? All of the above? _Did it fucking matter?_

“Wait, wait, wait wait wait hold ON, no, Zim, hold ON-” Dib scrabbled and pulled at the restraints at ankle and wrist, desperately attempting to regain any sense of control over whatever the _hell_ was going on. _This is…? But why’d he tie me here why are we even DOWN here this isn’t how it usually goes am I wrong? No I can’t be, maybe, but why- what is he doing what’s he going to do to me what do I need to be doing right now what-_

Zim came to a halt just in front of his knees and Dib froze, stiff as a board and breathing fast and shallow. “Do I have your consent to touch you?” he announced, clear and distinct.

“Um,” Dib thought about it. “Yeahhh...but what are y-” he squirmed, testing the integrity of the chair, then processed what Zim had said. _“Consent”, huh? Been doing some reading on this stuff haven’t you._ He quickly added, “You know that doesn’t mean I’m okay with everything, right? And I can take it back whenever I want?”

Zim pulled one glove off and dropped it to the floor. “Yes, I’m aware.”

Dib’s eyes shot to his bare, claw-tipped fingers and followed as they started working on the other glove. “So you have to stop whenever I say to stop.” The words were spilling out before he finished deciding to say them.

Zim dropped the other glove. “Uh huh.”

“Like. Whenever I say. No matter what.” His legs ached from pushing his body flush to the chair back. Why couldn’t he _shut up_ , Zim _knew_ this…

“Sure,” Zim said. He stepped forward between Dib’s legs (the feelings in his chest writhed and burned for a second time) and knocked on the tops of his thighs. “You know, you’ve been less tense when I’ve experimented on you.” Zim gently moved his legs back and forth. “Relax, will you?”

It didn’t matter whether Dib listened to him or not, because any progress he’d made towards that end was immediately undone as Zim proceeded to grip his shoulders for balance and plunk himself in his lap. “Okay but,” he sputtered as Zim shifted around and made himself comfortable, “Nothing below the belt. I me- I mean, like, literally. Below the belt. Like-”

Seemingly settled, Zim looked up at him, and somehow Dib’s torso got even tighter as he fought back a flinch. “Got it.”

“I don’t want to have sex,” Dib managed, and anxiety instantly clawed its way up his throat. _Fuck, no, wait, don’t give him the wrong idea!_ “Not. Not...now,” he amended. “I don’t want- not like thi- not now.”

“Okay,” Zim said, and put a hand on his chest.

Dib jumped a mile and made a choking noise, then quickly averted his gaze and cleared his throat, embarrassed. When he dared to look back, Zim was staring at him questioningly, his antennae lifted. “Your hands are cold,” Dib said tightly.

They both digested that.

“You still have a shirt o-” Zim started.

“Shut up,” snapped Dib, and jerked his head away so he could work on pretending that he _didn’t_ just say something completely idiotic, he _wasn’t_ flushing bright red, and his breathing and heartbeat were entirely _normal_ and _regular_ rates.

Zim let his antennae fall and turned back to what he was doing, swinging his legs idly as he began to explore Dib’s clothed upper body. To just sit there and watch felt wildly awkward, so Dib kept his head turned away, eyes darting from one corner of the room to the other. He needed to take whatever time Zim’d give him to figure out what the _hell_ was going on.

 _He’s acting like it’s just another one of our...things...but that can’t be right. Think about it. He basically never brings me underground unless it’s to experiment on me… Unless that’s something that’s different now too?_ Dib shied away from thinking about any of _that_ too hard. _And it wouldn’t make any sense to tie me here like this, cause then I can’t exactly participate. Do things like we’ve been doing._ He flexed and rolled his wrists and ankles, again, just in case it was different this time. _Yeah, until he leaves and I can work on breaking something, I’m stuck. But...hmm…_ He squeezed his hands into fists a few times and frowned. _These cuffs are basically skintight. Be near impossible to get out that way...maybe I can hack them, or...something?_

He shifted around a bit, restless. It was getting harder and harder to stay focused with Zim’s hands running over him, over his stupid sky blue polo that he still had on from work, and he forcefully wrenched his thoughts back on track. _But yeah, no, it can’t be that, right? Cause why would he just be...touching me? Is he putting anything on me? In me?_ He gave Zim’s hands as thorough an evaluation as he could from the corner of his eye, and they seemed empty. Not to mention bare. So theoretically there was nothing handy for him to whip out and stick Dib with before he had a chance to react. _Not like that’s stopped him before…_

A thought suddenly occurred to him, and his heart froze. _Unless he doesn’t want me to participate? Oh fuck, have I been doing it wrong?_ He started pulling up memories of past times, prepared to dissect everything down to the _second_ , but stopped himself. _Don’t be stupid, Dib. Zim wouldn’t miss a chance to rub it in your face. Plus you’d know if he wasn’t enjoying stuff, he’s not exactly subtle. Unless this is him not being subtle? But then I wouldn’t be sitting here, wondering what the HELL he’s getting at…_

The whole situation was a Gordian knot. And the only way to cut it, he supposed, was to gather more evidence. So he sat, tense and on edge, watching for any sign of things moving in a direction that made sense. For Zim to wander down his arms and disengage the cuffs there, or climb down and undo the ones on his ankles, so they could continue this elsewhere in a more familiar fashion. For Zim to move things along, shift his attention to the areas he’d learned, despite Dib’s best efforts, were more sensitive. Not the obvious one - Dib mostly trusted him not to do something he explicitly said not to - but maybe his neck, or face. Or, the soft spot right on the underside of his wrist, which Dib hadn’t even _known_ was sensitive until Zim brushed it on a previous occasion and elicited a very rewarding reaction, much to Dib’s chagrin.

Or, for things to go the only way they used to, the way Dib still struggled to believe was no longer on the table. For Zim to hop down, cackle, and begin monologuing about a plan. Perhaps the “project” he’d lured Dib down here to begin with was actually real, and he wanted Dib’s opinions on it in a much less friendly way than first implied. For Zim to pull some pointy, metallic, doubtless purple device from his PAK and aim it at any number of places Dib didn’t want it. For cables to snake from the ceiling and bite into his skin. For the floor to drop from underneath him. For it all to be a hologram. _Something._

But nothing happened of the sort. Zim really was just...touching him. With a weirdly satisfied look on his face.

What did happen, though, was Dib’s tenuous grasp on levelheadedness officially took a backseat to a skittery hyperawareness of the fact that there were hands on his body that weren’t his own. That those hands were delivering only the tamest of affections didn’t much matter. He felt where Zim had been long after he’d moved on to another spot, and certain touches sent sensation bursting outwards like an exploding star. A finger dragged down his sternum made spirals whirl along his ribs to his sides. Palms pressed down firm and flat may as well have been a weighted blanket covering his whole torso, if weighted blankets also sent chills up their users’ spines. The back of a hand stroking his stomach just above his beltline created waterfalls of sparks down into his legs, all the way down to his feet, which, for some reason, ached deep in the center.

A shivering had been building in his core since Zim had sat down, and it was reaching critical mass, threatening to break containment and surge out to his limbs. Dib fought it back, but with every pass of Zim’s hands, every claw scrape and press of fingertips, it grew stronger and stronger and harder and harder to keep subdued. Until finally Zim’s hands made their way up to his collar, where they delicately dipped beneath to stroke the hollows over his collarbones, and it couldn’t be held back any longer.

“Uh, Zim, I-” he managed to get out before a massive shudder began in his mid-back and tore from his head to his toes and back again. “Guh,” he said eloquently, vigorously shaking his arms and head to get rid of the last of it and dislodging his cowlick, which was already making significant progress on growing back since the last time he’d chopped it.

“What was _that_?” Zim asked, reaching for his wayward hair. Dib tossed his head to get the cowlick back in place before he could touch it.

“Nothing. Just...it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Dib ground his teeth and discovered, to his dismay, that he _hadn’t_ gotten rid of the last of it, and smaller tremors shook his body from the core outwards no matter how hard he tried to keep still.

Zim sat there with his hand still halfway to Dib’s head for a moment, then gave a dismissive grunt and returned to his explorations. As he dragged his clawtips down from collarbone to hip, Dib said abruptly, “You know, you don’t have to do…” He struggled to find the words. Only natural when he still didn’t understand _what was happening_. “...this.”

Zim burst out laughing. “Please. Have you ever seen Zim do something he hasn’t wanted to do?” He splayed and flexed his fingers on Dib’s waist. “I want to be doing this.”

“What is this, exactly?” He cursed at how the tremors were making their way into his voice.

Zim met his eyes, a touch salaciously. “Getting to appreciate all you have to offer.”

Now it was Dib’s turn to laugh. “All that I have? What exactly do you see here?”

“Let’s see!” Zim brightened and started fiddling with his belt.

It was definitely panic that flared in his chest this time. Dib straightened like a shot before twisting to try and loosen Zim’s grip. “Wait wait Zim, NO, I said NO-”

“I know, I know, that’s not what I’m doing. Calm down,” Zim muttered. How Zim managed to undo his belt with him twisting around and with only three fingers to work with Dib didn’t know, but he flipped it open in record time. But, to Dib’s relief, he dropped it and instead tugged his undershirt free from where it was tucked.

“Okay but if-” Dib flinched all over as Zim slipped a hand under his shirt and pressed it solidly to his bare skin. He clenched his jaw until the roots of his teeth ached and breathed hard through his nose, then tried again. “If you just-” Zim started moving the hand upwards, and Dib yanked at the restraints before he really knew what he was doing. The pain shot all the way up to his shoulders. _Fucking hell._ He winced and gingerly rolled his aching wrists. _I’m going to have some goddamn bruises after this._ “If you just LET ME GO...” He pulled at the restraints again, more because his jittery brain was telling him to rather than any hope it would actually work. “I could, like, return the favor, and-”

Zim’s hand reached his ribs, where his wandering thumb skated close, so close, to rubbing over his nipple. Fire raced through the entirety of Dib’s system, and he wrenched his head down and in, squeezed his eyes shut. It was too much, too much, TOO MUCH.

“Zim stop stop stop stop,” he gasped, and thankfully Zim did, though his hand remained put. Dib’s breaths came quick and shallow, the shivering steadily escalating. _Can’t even do this like a normal person, can you, idiot, can’t even deal with someone just touching you, come on, just pull it together, pull it together pull it together…_ He repeated it like a mantra in his head as a wild storm of emotions and ghosts of sensory input bounced off nerve endings he didn’t even know he had, and tried to force everything to STOP.

It was...it was like his senses had been split into thousands, no, millions of filaments that extended far into the space around his body, searching for even the tiniest bit of stimuli to zero in on, amplify a hundredfold, and send crashing down to his awareness, even as he begged for pause. From the hums and gurgles in the ceiling to the sharp, metallic smell to Zim’s tiny shifts in weight on his legs. And right now, Zim’s hand on his ribs was sending everything aflame most of all. And as he slotted his fingers into the spaces between his ribs and scratched gently, every single one of those filaments turned to the bright trails left by his claws like lights descending on a stage. The world disappeared; all that existed was the pinpoint of that feeling.

But for only a second. Only for a second, before his body remembered the rest of the world existed, and immediately sent all of the world exploding over every bit of awareness he had. The filaments were being shaken to pieces. Everything, all of it, and especially one small three-fingered hand at the center of it all, was entirely _too much._

“Hands off.” It started as a mutter and then it was very much not. “Hands off HANDS OFF!”

“Okay, okay, sheesh!” he distantly heard Zim’s voice and felt the hand withdraw. Dib knew he was being scrutinized but was too busy trying to get everything to stop to care.

“You’re not enjoying this,” Zim said finally.

“NO!” Dib shouted. Despite everything, anxiety pushed his heart into his throat and he immediately backtracked. “I mean- I don’t- I don’t mean it like that. I do, but not- just…” He went to drag a hand down his face but was brought up short. “I don’t know. Just let me go.”

Zim considered it for a moment, then said, “No.”

Dib set his face as dangerous as he could make it and pronounced each word with deadly precision. “No? You said you’d stop if I told you to.” The effect was only partially ruined by the fact that it shook. He hoped.

“Yeah, stop touching you.” Zim hopped down off his lap, boots hitting the ground with a click. “There. Not touching.”

“Zim,” Dib growled. “Just let me go, and we can go back upstairs and do this like normal.”

“Hmm…” Zim made a show of pretending to think. “Don’t wanna.”

“WHY?!”

“Because _I_ want to touch _you._ ”

Dib’s body chose that moment to unleash another big shudder. Unrelated to what Zim had just said, though he knew it didn’t seem like it and he hated it. “The fuck do you mean?” he asked. “You touch me all the time.”

Zim rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you let me put a hand on you while _you’re_ touching _me._ That doesn’t count.”

“Why-” Dib groaned. “Ugh. Fine. I’ll let you do it more. Now will you let me out of these things?”

“No.”

“ZIM.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Dib?” Zim demanded. (“Yes,” Dib said loudly.) “Do you really think I’m not aware that if I release you, this will turn exactly into what it always is? Where you tell Zim to lay back and be the focus of all the attention, while-”

“What’s wrong with that?” Dib interrupted. “I like doing it that way.” He was pretty sure his face was going hot, but given that he was shaking like a leaf, it didn’t make him cringe as much as it normally would’ve. He didn’t exactly have much dignity left to lose.

“Because you don’t let Zim do the same!”

“So? You don’t have to! I’m perfectly happy the way things are right now. Besides-”

“But I want to!” Zim was on his way to yelling, but suddenly dropped down to the low, smooth tone he used to use back in the day when he knew he’d _won._ The one that used to give Dib the willies. Used to. _Used to._ “But I figured out the solution. With these, you can’t do anything. With these, you can’t even THINK about doing anything. Because it would be an exercise of FUTILITY. Now, all you can do is sit back and feel what Zim does to _your_ meat body.”

“BESIDES,” Dib continued pointedly, “You don’t have to strap me down if you want things to change, you can just, you know, TALK to me, and then I’ll-”

“It won’t change,” Zim said stubbornly. “Don’t think you can fool me, Dib.”

They glared at each other. _You know what? Whatever. If this makes him shut up and get over whatever this is, I’ll just deal._ “Fine,” he said reluctantly. “But untie one of my arms.”

“No.”

He had _just_ wrestled his frustration down to a tolerable level. “My legs.”

“No.”

“...one leg?”

“No.”

 _That’s it._ “DAMN IT, Zim!” he shouted. “What is your fucking problem?! Why are you being so difficult?”

“Why are YOU being so difficult?” Zim shot back.

“Alright, none of that ‘no you’ bullshit,” Dib snarled. It occurred to him that he was being awfully mouthy for a guy tied to a chair, and it occurred to him that he didn’t care. “You’re not making any goddamn sense.”

“Eh? Why not?”

Dib looked around in disbelief. “Because you don’t get anything out of this!”

“Oh, I’m getting plenty.”

“No, shithead, you know what I mean. You…” He struggled to phrase it. “...personally...are not getting anything out of it.”

“What I WANT,” Zim said, “is to have my hands on your smelly human body, Dib-worm. And you’re not letting me.”

He felt like Zim was trying to shove a square peg of information into the round hole of his brain, and Dib tried again to shave off the corners. “Okay, but… surely you want something as well... right? You _can’t_ be happy getting nothing in return. And I will, I will if you just-”

“I don’t want to be touched right now,” Zim said, slowly and evenly. Like he was explaining something to Gir. “I. Want. To touch. You. Make YOU feel good. And that’s _it._ ”

Dib stared at him, completely lost. Zim groaned. “Your stupid giant head thinks too much,” He stepped up right in front of Dib, just as before. “Do you want this? Yes or no?”

Dib chewed the inside of his cheek and let the tension in the air weigh down on him until he could take it no longer. He dropped his gaze and muttered, “Fine.” In his peripherals, Dib saw Zim’s face twist into a satisfied smile.

“What are you going to do?” he asked as Zim sat and got himself settled again.

“Hmm.” Zim toyed with the hem of his shirt and was silent for a moment. “What do you want me to do?”

Dib stared at him, incredulous. “You didn’t have a plan past-” he stopped himself and scoffed, and was in the middle of muttering, “Figures, I don’t know why I thought you would…” when Zim hooked his fingers under his waistband and began shimmying his pants down. He yelped and jumped, his heart all too eagerly surging back into panic mode. “Zim NO-”

“Lift your hips,” Zim said, brow furrowing in annoyance at his lack of progress. He let go for a second to pop the button open, a wholly unfamiliar feeling that sent Dib’s heart galloping towards a new record and ice shooting through his veins. Zim was lucky that he was currently incapacitated. Because superstrong alien handcuffs were currently the only thing stopping him from fulfilling the uncontrollable urge to plant his fist directly between Zim’s eyes.

Didn’t stop him from trying, though all he got for his trouble was incredibly sharp pain in his wrists. “I said NO, Zim, STOP-”

“I KNOW, human, quit squirming and lift your hips, I’m TRYING to-”

“Get OFF me, Zim, or I SWEAR I’ll-”

“Will you LISTEN, I’m not-”

Dib lost track of what either of them were yelling as he did his damndest to throw Zim off. Zim cinched his legs around Dib’s middle just in time to avoid being dumped on the floor. He bared his teeth, then threw his head back, howled “I’M NOT GOING TO TOUCH YOUR REPRODUCTIVE MEATS DIB-BEAST JUST-” and grabbed a fistful of fabric in each hand and yanked, hard. The waistband came to rest just above his ass crack. Judging by the stinging on his lower back, it took the top layer of skin with it too.

Dib was startled into silence, and perched on the chair stiffly as Zim finally released his hold and slid his fingers to Dib’s newly exposed hips, jutting out from under the skin as they were. He stroked up and over the crests and back down again, and after a few passes moved to the soft skin on the inside curves. “Straighten up, I’m falling off,” he said after a few moments, pushing there with the backs of his fingers. Dib shifted until he was flat against the chair back, and Zim went back to idly scraping the sides of his claws over Dib’s skin. “My _plan_ was ‘do what the Dib wants’. What do you want me to do?”

Dib huffed, his heart slowing ratcheting back down. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

“Nope, try again.”

“Zim, this whole thing was your idea!”

Zim _hmm_ ed and abandoned Dib’s lower body to lift up his shirts. Dib’s face flushed at the scrutiny, and the sudden rush of cold air made his skin prickle. Zim bunched the shirts in one hand and started exploring the bottom half of his torso with the other. “Anything you DON’T want me to do?”

“Uh,” Dib said. “No biting.” It was getting harder to think again with his senses abuzz, and the shivering was back. Dib struggled to untangle his thoughts. “No. Um. Sex.”

“You’ve mentioned.” Zim dropped his shirts in favor of having both hands on him. “Tongue?” he asked. Near instantly Dib felt the start of another shudder, but he squashed it down as hard as he possibly could.

“Fine,” he bit out. “No, um...” Zim was moving up towards his chest again, and his mind felt the way a skipping CD sounds. Finally he gave in. “God, _stop,_ I can’t _think_ when you’re doing that…”

Zim did, but smirked. “That’s the point.”

“Not in a good way. Just-” he shut himself up before he let anything else out. “Never mind.”

They sat quietly for a moment, Zim’s hands splayed on his upper abdomen. Suddenly, Zim’s antennae perked, and Dib became aware of a soft sound a split second before they both traced it to his frantically twitching fingers. Dib cursed internally and immediately curled the offending fingers into a fist, but it’s too late. Zim’s seen, and he can almost hear the Irken-stamped gears turning in the alien’s head.

“Why _are_ you shaking, Dib-thing?” Zim asked. He readjusted a hand. “You feel unbearably warm like you should be.”

“I told you, it’s nothing,” Dib insisted. It’d never been less convincing. The cost for suppressing the last shudder was a worse baseline.

Zim narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”

“FINE!” Dib exploded. “It’s because I’m a FREAK, alright? An outcast, freak loser who hasn’t done anything like this!”

“So you’re...nervous?” Zim guessed.

“No! Yes! I don’t know!” Dib shouted. “I don’t know, I...” As he tried to gather his thoughts, Zim idly started tapping his fingers, and Dib snapped, “Stop moving, you make my brain reset every time you do that. It’s...” He pauses and steels himself before continuing. “It’s a lot, Zim. All of this is a lot. I feel like I’m about to burst, and I don’t know what you’re doing, or what _I’m_ supposed to be doing, and I just- I don’t-”

“Well, I don’t want you to do anything, and you can’t do anything anyway. So just sit back and enjoy. Sounds to me like your brain needs the calibration anyway.” Zim tugged his shirts up again, this time with more purpose. He sighed. “Shame I didn’t get these off of you while I had the chance.”

Dib was almost 100% certain Zim didn’t do it on purpose, but relief still washed over him at how quickly his unplanned moment of vulnerability was dropped. “I mean, you still can. Take the cuffs off, take the shirts off, put the cuffs on,” Dib suggested.

Zim shot him a look. “Please. You’d do that without trying anything as soon as I deactivate them?”

They looked at each other. “Ye-” Dib started.

“Liar,” said Zim. He turned back to the expanse of skin before him. “I’ll just...make do.” He switched his hold to Dib’s ribs, high up to keep the shirts up and high enough that Dib nearly protested about the ticklishness, and just...stared for a minute, smoothing his thumbs under his collarbones.

Although he was more attractive like this, without his disguise (a thought Dib promptly booted from his awareness out of habit), he was harder to read. Not impossible (Dib hadn’t monitored his every move for the last decade or so for nothing), but harder. He still wasn’t confident on what the twitches and flutters of his antennae meant in this context, and unless he watched carefully for slight changes in reflection it was hard to tell where he was looking without the contacts. He was thinking hard about something, though.

But it wasn’t long until his face relaxed and he simply leaned forward, pressed a light kiss to the center of Dib’s chest, and laid his face against it, wrapping his arms around him and giving a content sigh. The shirts, no longer held up, fell on top of Zim’s head, and he shook it until they slipped over.

Dib looked down at the cloth-covered lump that was Zim, eyebrow raised. He shifted his weight, cleared his throat, gave a pointed huff, trying to prod Zim into finishing it up. But Zim just sat there, so he gave up and sat back. Looking around, he sighed, then almost involuntarily followed it up with a bigger one that made his tight chest pop and profound relief flood his entire system. _Geez. How long have I needed that for?_

The tension slowly faded from his stomach, then shoulders, then arms and legs. Not all the way, but enough to be more comfortable. Zim was a light pressure against his chest and legs, and his fingers were flexed just enough to prickle against Dib’s sides as he breathed.

It was certainly...something. But not, he thought, altogether unpleasant.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, Dib.
> 
> When I read through this for the last time before posting, it hit me just how unfriendly the whole thing feels and I wanted to clarify some things. I see Dib and Zim as still bickering, being competitive, even fighting after they become friends because that's just who they are, but there's a mutual understanding that they enjoy each other's company and don't want to ACTUALLY do any serious damage. So on the previous occasions that they've done stuff, there's usually a better vibe. Dib just feels cornered here and that makes him hostile. And he and Zim have always fed off each other, so.
> 
> Also, my two cents on Zim and sex: I don't see him as having done it before meeting Dib (because who would he have done it with. Seriously.) But Irkens strike me as a very hedonistic people, so I wouldn't be surprised if they're pretty open about sex and don't assign a whole lot of meaning to it. So while it's novel and interesting to Zim, it's not as big a deal to him as it is to Dib. Like how Europeans don't get as wild about alcohol as Americans do. Or so I'm told.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Edit: I meant for this to be one chapter, but my brain had other ideas. Chapter 2 is in progress, so stay tuned...


End file.
